A Last Final Goodbye
by ofb29
Summary: Sara. Warrick. A lot of angst. And an injured Grissom.
1. a last final goodbye

A Last Final Goodbye

The ticking of the clock sounded loud in the silent room, feeling like a countdown. Like a quiz show, where time was getting short, and time would seem to get quicker, and excitement and fear, and anticipation would all increase along with the ticking past of the seconds.

Time, of course, doesn't speed up. Or slow down. It's constant, and as Sara stares at the clock she wants to curse it for that fact. Why can't it move slower? Allow time for him to get here. Why can't it speed up? Stop this longing that is destined to not be realised.

'I'm leaving.'

The words reverberated around her head, resonating like the remnants of a bad dream. Words said by her own mouth, formed by her own brain. How much regret, guilt, could two words create? A single thought, expressed out loud in the heat of the moment, two words that are set to resonate through both of their lives.

She sighs, the sound echoing through the empty apartment, adding a finality to proceedings. It's time to leave. Leave here, leave this place. Leave behind two shattered hearts that are entirely of her creating.

Outside, a car horn sounds, and for a moment Sara allows herself to imagine he's outside, waiting for her, waiting for the right moment to come and be here, ask her not to go. A quickening of her heart, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, sweat on the palms of her hands at the sudden anticipation. Words that she had imagined, over and over till she could plan out the whole conversation, all the mannerisms, the look in his eye, the clothes he'd be wearing, everything…

She stood up, cutting the image dead in her mind, blocking the images before they could be embedded into her brain again. She walked over to the window, glancing at the cab idling at the curb. She slowly turned round, taking in the empty room before her, the suitcase sat waiting at the door, a few boxes of rubbish the only remnants of her life left in the room. She slowly walked across the floor, picking up the keys off the side. She slid the front door key off the ring, laying it primly on the side, lining it up straight with the side. Realising that all the postponing in the world wasn't going to bring him to her door. 

In a rush of movement, just wanting to get out now, just wanting to escape her life here, she picks up the suitcase, glances around one last time, before closing the front door behind her, walking with a purpose, a meaning that she doesn't feel.

'It didn't mean a thing. It wasn't meant to be.'

Her actions were as much a mystery to herself as him. In her brain, they made sense. They were rational actions to an irrational problem. A solution to a riddle. The answer to the puzzle. The one the world expected, but that he hadn't, and she didn't want to give.

'It's easier this way.'

Of course it was easier. That was what she wanted. She who had never failed; at school, at college, who was unprepared to fail at this. Looking for the easy solution rather than having to work at something that would be too easy to fail.

The cab driver greeted her with a grunt, looking but not expressing his displeasure at the wait. Sara didn't bother apologising, sat in the back, staring out at a city that she had grown to love, watching streets she knew so well disappear behind her. Feeling the ache of tears she refused to cry prick once again at the back of her throat. Cutting her eyes from the window, from the memories the pictures created, she stared resolutely at the seat in front, picking out the tiniest detail in the fabric coverings, anything to shut out the pain crying out for a release, for a voice, from the very pit of her heart.

The ride to the airport was endless. Or so it seemed. Like the morning wait, it was bound to come to an end, but the in between limbo of waiting dragged more than she thought possible.

Why hadn't he come? Rationally she knew that he had no good reason to know that today her earlier threat was coming true. That in the two weeks since those words were uttered aloud she'd managed to organise to move her whole life away from Vegas. She was a pro at fast moves now. Don't get established. Don't set down roots. Don't commit. The irony of those thoughts were lost in a pain she couldn't see ending.

Don't commit.

Because every commitment had to come to an end. Every relationship was going to finish at some point whether it be sooner or later. Why go through that inevitable heartache? What was worth so much to only have to say goodbye in the end. Life ended. Her job was more than enough to show her the truth of the frailty of the human condition.

The airport was a noisy intrusion on her internal musings. The noise and light seemed exaggerated, overbearing as she looked up at the bank of computers detailing the flights leaving Vegas. She picked out San Francisco, dismayed, and yet a little spark of hope as delayed flashed endlessly next to it. There was still time. Time to wallow and despair. Time for him to come and find her. She found a seat. Sat down to wait, a familiar action of the last two weeks. She wasn't sure what she had been waiting for.

Well that was a lie. She knew who she had been waiting; she just wasn't sure what she expected him to say.

Warrick. The man she had come to Vegas to investigate. The man she had fought and loved on equal footing. A man that she had shared a seemingly endless night of passion for him to only leave in the morning without so much as a goodbye.

It could have just been that. A night of perfect pleasure forever to remain in both of their memories. A set of memories never to be repeated, never to be forgotten.

Could that have only been two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime; the passion, the pleasure, the mind-blowing amazement of a night spent like no other. It couldn't have been part of this nightmare, part of this pain that felt like a constant ache now.

Why had he uttered those words? Why had he come back, complicated matters with more words. Why hadn't he left it as just that night so she could have a memory untainted by thought, of reality, just the perfect event. Because surely, there couldn't be another night like it.

Did she want him to come back, take her off into the sunset, show her that the night wasn't just a one off experience. Or perhaps she was expecting a good bye, a final chaste kiss, a final look through the departures gate. Sara didn't know anymore. Her heart and mind had battled to stalemate and had both given up on the other. Rationality fought emotion, neither able to claim the victory. Because whilst she was leaving, she hadn't managed to erase the feelings she was meant to be leaving behind.

Perhaps either of the scenarios were more likely to work if Warrick was more aware of her expectations. Her words, sounding so hopeless, so final had fallen on ears that if not agreeing with them, and lived by them. He hadn't tried to talk her out of it, he hadn't been around once in the last two weeks to express any of his own feelings on the subject. He had watched her leave without one word of argument. What was she supposed to think? He had said that he had feelings for her, and yet, hadn't managed to come up with a worthwhile argument for her to stay.

Surely, he knew she was going today? Her resignation had been in with Grissom for more than two weeks. Her goodbyes to Catherine, Nick, Greg must have reached his ears by now. And yet here she was, alone, waiting for the delayed plane that would take her from this city, from his life. And he didn't seem to want it any other way.

A final look. A final, desperate search of crowds milling about. A final silent plea for him to have come, to rescue her from her own safety net. A single tear managed to escape past her rock solid defence as she turned, walked through to departures, saying a silent goodbye to her life here in Las Vegas.

Saying a silent goodbye to Warrick.

A love affair that wasn't meant to be.

Was that what he thought?


	2. since when did goodbye have to mean fore...

Since when did goodbye mean forever?

By Ria

a.n thanks for the people who do review my stories everytime- you know who you are, and know that you inspire me to keep on writing W/S fic!

Warrick didn't like this silence. It was too quiet, too still. This was the 2nd best crime lab in the country, and the only case they had that night was a stupid B&E up on Mansion lane. Probably an insurance rip off. Gris had taken Greg over there for good behaviour, leaving the rest of them dealing with the quietness anyway they could. He supposed that they should be glad. No crimes, meant no people were dying unnecessarily, nobody was being attacked, hurt in unbelievable ways. Still, he didn't like this quiet.

He had escaped to a small office, the door shut, the lights on low to try and deter anyone, and especially Nick from coming in. Asking if he was ok. Getting that look on his face like he wanted to ask but didn't know how. The reason Warrick didn't want Nick here was that he asked the questions that Warrick couldn't answer, didn't particularly want to contemplate on how to answer.

He looked at the folder in front of him, reading notes he himself had penned a long time ago. A slow night reduced to reviewing cases long gone cold. It wasn't helping him forget the silence. Or the reason for his current funk. Especially when he turned over to the next page, saw familiar handwriting knocking him for six.

_"I'm leaving"_ He shushed her voice inside of his head, her fact telling voice that had told him unemotionally that even after that night she was going.

Of course her handwriting would be in the folder. It was one of the many cases they had worked together. Back in the first year that she had come to Las Vegas, he remembered. Back when everything had been walking on eggshells between them, when he was still bitter that she had been brought into investigate him. When their personalities had sparked impressively off each other.

Their relationship had never lost that spark. It had just turned from sparks of anger, to another kind of emotion. The passion that they had never lost, just put to better use. 

There had certainly been sparks flying that night.

_"It didn't mean a thing."_ There were no sparks then, no lightning in her eyes, none of the usual fire and dance. Like she was reading from a script. Even he could see the lie.

He deliberately turned his attention to less emotive thoughts, staring at the evidence they had collected from the case. The lack of which had been the down full of the case. Warrick remembered it well. A husband shot his wife. They just couldn't prove it. The frustration of the case. The argument he had gotten in with Sara about it. Having to physically stop Sara running off to arrest the husband when they had not one shred of evidence except that he was an asshole and deserved to spend life in the state penitentiary. Unfortunately they couldn't arrest people for who they were.

_"It wasn't meant to be."_ Why, why wasn't it meant to be? Why had she stood there, told him that, and then waited for him to call. Why had she lied to him? 

He was just getting past the memories, the raw emotions still felt when he thought about her, to concentrate on an eye witness statement. Trying to read between the lines, connect it to the vague time line they had drawn up when his concentration was interrupted, the door opened without warning, Nick inviting himself in without asking.

Warrick suppressed a sigh, as Nick took a seat at the head of the table, looking at Warrick expectantly. 'We were just wondering if you'd somehow managed to sneak out.' Nick said when Warrick didn't say anything.

_"It's easier this way."_ How? How had it been easier? Easier for her? Not having to face that night. Not having to face him. Or was she thinking of him, that it was easier for him? Because she was wrong. It hadn't been easy, nothing about her leaving had been easy.

'Is there a case?' Warrick asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Nick shook his head, not seeming to notice Warrick's disappointment. 'I can't believe how quiet it is here.' He said instead, settling back in his chair, taking a piece of paper from the case that Warrick had spread out on the table, glancing at it.

Whatever it was, didn't hold his attention too long. He was soon looking back at Warrick, studying him for something. 'How long are you gonna mope around for, avoid us?' he eventually asked.

'I'm not avoiding you.' Warrick said, immediately going on the defensive. He didn't want to have this conversation, with anyone. Unfortunately however hard he tried, he couldn't think of a good enough excuse to leave.

Just a little murder. That was all he wanted.

Nick's expression clearly didn't believe a word he had said. 'You've gone out of your way not to be anywhere near us.' Nick said in evidence.

Warrick couldn't exactly counter the argument. He had avoided them.

'Ever since Sara left.' Nick added, watching him closely for a reaction to the name. He got one. It was only a moment, a closing of the eyes, the quick blocking off of any emotion.

'It's been two weeks, man.' Nick started. 'Have you even tried to call her?'

'Isn't it pretty obvious she doesn't want me in her life.'

'How?'

'She was the one that left town!' Warrick said, his voice straining to stay under control, but the emotion that bubbled just under the surface was breaking free, expressing itself in anger.

'You never made any effort to get her to stay.' Nick pointed out.

'She'd already made up her mind. Even before that night.'

'She was hurt. Hurt and angry at the system. We've all been there. We all get over it. She just needed someone to give her a reason to stay.'

'So why didn't she just ask? Why did she tell me that she was leaving?'

'Because she wanted you to ask her to stay!' Nick answered, getting frustrated that his friend couldn't see it the way he saw it.

For a moment, silence reigned supreme once again, as Warrick reluctantly thought back to a night that wasn't meant to be, a night that had been a pure, exquisite mistake. One that he couldn't forget, couldn't quite put out of his mind. One that however long he tried to forget about it, it seemed to forever be there, lurking at the back of his mind. That however much he tried to tell himself it was a mistake that was best left in the past, he couldn't help wondering why it had felt so good. Why every memory he had of that night, he didn't want to forget.

'Do you regret that night?' Nick's voice was soft, searching.

Warrick hesitated, but not because he had to think about the answer. That was an immediate no, no thinking time required. He didn't regret that night, but he wouldn't mind never having to go through what happened afterward. 

He shook his head. 'I don't regret it. I regret what happened afterward, but I don't regret what happened. How could I?' He stopped short, realising what he had just said.

Nick, however, had picked up on the rhetorical question. He had found out, from both Warrick and Sara what had happened that night. Well, as much as either would tell him, anyway. What he hadn't been able to work out was what had happened in the morning. Both said they didn't regret what happened that night. And yet, here they were, Warrick barely able to stay in the same room as the others, Sara off in another state altogether. 'Why did you leave then? If it was so good, why did you leave?' Nick asked the obvious question.

The one question that Warrick couldn't work out himself. Why had he left? Waking up in her arms, remembering every second of the previous night's activities almost as if they were a dream, because surely nothing that good could happen in real life. Not with Sara. Not with the woman who had been brought here to investigate him, who still questioned him, annoyed him, challenged him in a way no one else did. He'd untangled himself from her, leaving her peacefully sleeping, a small smile plain on her lips. Standing there, watching her for a moment, wondering, waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn't sure. For her to wake up, tell him, show him in someway that it wasn't a mistake? Show him that the night was meant to be a one off. Or maybe that she didn't want it to be just a one off.

She had stayed asleep. And he had walked out of her flat. Left her to her own life. Left that night in the past, gone on with his life.

It hadn't been part of his plan. Walking out like that. Then again, sleeping with Sara had never exactly been more than just a part time fantasy. He had thought it would be for the best, what she would want. How was he to know that the longing feeling he'd felt standing there and watching her in the twilight wouldn't leave, would, if anything grow worse. That when he thought of her leaving, the raw pain would shake him to the core. That, that one night would leave an imprint on his heart that he couldn't shake, couldn't forget however much he tried.

'Why didn't you go and see her?'

'She was leaving, Nick, she didn't want me to complicate that.'

'Yeah, that's why she told us all exactly when she was leaving, exactly when she'd be at her apartment till. Exactly what flight she was taking. Man, how dumb are you?' Nick asked, not so rhetorically it seemed as he looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Warrick shrugged, not about to give Nick the satisfaction of actually answering. Although inside, his brain had already concluded that it's owner was indeed very dumb.

'You could have stopped this. One phone call, one word of acknowledgement of that night, and she would have stayed, and I think you know that. She was scared of what you were thinking, while you were just as scared of her leaving. Great pair you make.' Nick said, shaking his head.

'Thanks for that.' Warrick said sardonically, at the same time as wondering when Nick got so insightful.

He obviously decided he'd been insightful enough for that night, and got to his feet, looking down at Warrick. 'You know, it's not too late.' He said.

'It's way too late.' Warrick disagreed.

'You never know till you try. You've got her number. Why not just give her a call? Talk, see where it leads. If the worst thing that happens is that she says no, then at least you know.'

'What if I don't want to know?' Warrick asked.

'Then stop moping around like you've lost a dollar and found a cent.' Nick said.

After Nick left, Warrick pulled out his cell phone, looking at it. He could phone her. Just like that. She would be up. Maybe she'd even answer.

Maybe the memory of that night would be enough, would be all that relationship was meant to have. Maybe it wasn't meant to be more than one perfect moment.

But maybe there were meant to be many perfect moments. Maybe he was meant to be with her and he'd ruined it for the both of them. Maybe that hadn't been the perfect night; that the next one, or the one after that would be. Maybe that wasn't meant to be the beginning and the end. Maybe it was just meant to be the beginning.

He laid the cell on the table. Just looking at it.

Maybe he'd call.

Maybe.


	3. Give me the moonlight

Give me the moonlight

It's two am. A time that would find most people safely tucked up under their sheets, sleeping soundly, maybe even dreaming a little. The bedroom is bathed in light only from a distant moon shining brightly in a cloudless sky. The air is still, broken only by the sound far off of a ticking clock. Two walls are taken up by large bookcases, sagging under the weight of the many books, journals collected over the years. The only other real piece of furniture is the large bed, currently unattended, the sheets pulled tight, comforter neatly folded at the foot, like it hadn't even been used that night. Sara is aware of the time. Aware that she should be in bed, getting some sleep. She has a busy day ahead of her. Meetings to attend, a date with the library. But even if rationally she was aware of the need for sleep, she also knew she wouldn't get any. Not yet, anyway. Too many years of graveyard shift, too much sleeping during the day, working the night, to break the habit now.

She is sitting on the window chair, staring out with unseeing eyes at a world that has long since given up on the day, fallen into a silent, still wait for the new day to bloom.

She knew it was a show. That out in the city, life carried on independently of what time it was. Here in the country, life stopped, only to start again with the rising of the new sun.

Her thoughts have been drifting for most of the evening. A discarded paperback her failed attempt to stop the thoughts. It wasn't a good book. Or at least, the first chapter had failed to capture her attention.

During the day it was easier. During the day she had plans, and deadlines, and work, and meetings. It was at night that her good intentions came crashing down. In the stillness of the empty house, her thoughts would turn to the forbidden, to him. And once latched there, it was harder to rescue a bone from a dog than to stop the thoughts going round her head.

It had been six months. A long six months, but then when Sara looked back, she couldn't believe that it had been six months. Six months since she'd left the original Sin City to escape here.

She missed a lot of things about her life there. Being surrounded by light, and energy, and noise. The friends she had made, the life she had carved out for herself. Working all hours and coming home to collapse in bed.

There she hadn't sat and wallowed for hours. Even in the first few months when she felt so alone in a city where she knew just one person. She'd survived, she'd adapted. Mainly by throwing herself into work. Never being at home, never having to deal with being alone. Gradually over time there had been friends, acquaintances. There had even been a boyfriend that she wouldn't refer to as a boyfriend.

Times were different now. She didn't have that kind of work to throw herself into now for one thing. Not the all consuming, day in day out way she had as a CSI.

She was still a CSI, just not in the same way, not working the same way. She couldn't. She had burned out, that much was obvious. One victim too far, one life crushed too many. She couldn't do the job anymore, and that had been obvious for a while.

She was happier in some ways here. She wasn't constantly living on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder in a paranoid state, constantly living in a state of exhaustion. She was eating properly, sometimes even sleeping properly. Her health, which she had neglected for so long was so much better for the change. If only the same could be said of her heart. She enjoyed the current work she was doing, but it wasn't the same, she didn't think she'd ever find something that fit her so right as being an active CSI had done.

It had been a choice. At the time, it had seemed the only solution. One victim too many let down by an inadequate justice system that she was supposed to work within, to enforce, and yet it had betrayed them. Betrayed the victim. Betrayed her. It had burned her to the core. Sara didn't think it was particularly the victim, although getting too close hadn't helped. It was the wrong time, wrong place, wrong judge. It had been leave or go slowly mad in a system that she no longer seemed to be able to influence. An easy decision at the time. Straight after the guilty party had walked free on a technicality. Hindsight had restored some control, some impartiality, but by that time her notice was neatly signed, even approved by a reluctant Grissom.

She was already to move on, move out, when that night had occurred. For less than a seven hour time period, it had certainly left it's mark. Like a ferocious fire, destroying all in it's path as it burned it's way to oblivion, that night had changed her in a way that she still couldn't get to now. The scars of that night still ravished her insides now. It had started out as a friendly gesture. Talking about a system they had gone from respecting to ridiculing. Warrick had been there, been so easy to talk to at a time that her thoughts barely made sense to herself.

She hadn't meant to let things go that far. But somehow talking wasn't enough anymore. She wanted more, wanted to feel more, wanted to feel soothed and loved and not so alone. She'd initiated the kiss, probably expecting him to pull back. Not expecting him to deepen the kiss, for his hands to roam freely over her body. For his hands to work under her clothes.

She could imagine it now, six months on, as if he was here, sitting behind her, touching her all over again. The pain deadened against nerves that came alive under his knowing fingers. Even now, even though she knew the ending of that particular song, it could still leave her warm and tender inside.

If she could go back she would change only one thing. A single thing. It wouldn't be the evening, the talking, certainly not the kissing. She definitely wouldn't change the bit that followed the kissing, the night she thought she must have died and gone to heaven because there was certainly no earthly feeling this good. No she would change just one thing following that. She wouldn't go to sleep. She would lay there, in his arms, waiting for him to wake up. And when he did wake up, when he rolled over and sat up, she would reach over to him, pull him back down. She would stop him leaving as he had, without a word, without a reason.

With difficulty, she pulled herself back into the present. She couldn't change it. She couldn't stop him leaving. She could have gone to see him, tried to talk to him, but she hadn't, and that made her current heartache as much her fault as it did his. She could have found the courage instead of taking the easy option out, as she always did.

She could go back now. Grissom had said there would always be a job for her there. She knew the city, she knew the people, and she loved the job. She could go back and try to salvage something from that night, try to salvage some of that feeling, something to form a relationship with.

What was keeping her here, then? The nightlife? It could have been the quiet, the simplicity of her life here. It could have been the work, the research project that would last another few months yet. 

But really there was only reason that was keeping her locked up in this house, working on a research project for a boss she hadn't even met. One thing that went beyond rationality, or her heart's desire.

Fear. Fear of going back to Vegas, of not fitting back into the job she loved, or not settling back in with her friends. Fear of seeing him, working with him, and not having anything with him. They had been great friends, and now…now everything was in limbo. She was in another state, he hadn't bothered to call, to try and build a connection. Not even an email. Her greatest fear was of going back and having nothing of that night to salvage.

She turned in the seat, planting her feet firmly on the floor, walking slowly, hesitantly over to her bed. Laying back in her bed she almost fearfully closed her eyes. Because whilst in the awake hours she could have some control over her thoughts, in sleep she lost all control. In sleep her deepest desire left over from that night resounded loud and clear, and every morning she would wake up to the hurt, to the pain, and most of all to the unrequited desire for him. And a deep despair that she didn't know how to vanquish.

She needed him to make the first move. He'd probably forgotten all about it, he certainly hadn't made any moves to talk to her after the evening. He had left.

As she lay there, between cold sheets, she remembered waking up that night. In bed, alone but unaware of that fact at first. The bed still warm from his body heat, his scent still clinging to the pillowcase. She remembered those first few moments, the delicious feeling of waking up, remembering the previous night. The sweet feelings that a moment later were crushed when she opened her eyes to realise she was alone in bed.

He had left then, and he wasn't coming back now. Sara laying there in the darkness came to a sudden decision. Enough was enough, it had been so long. She knew what she had to do. It wasn't to go back, to beg someone who obviously wanted nothing of her. She had to move on, get past him and that night. 

Remember the night for what it was. A single night of passion. No lasting relationship, no never-ending feelings. It was one night, and that was all it ever would be. Now was the time to get on with her life. Starting with finding another permanent job. She had a couple of months left of the research project, in which to decide, to mull over her change of career.

For the first time in a long time, Sara's thoughts were solely on the future as she slowly drifted off to sleep. She didn't know where she wanted to work if it wasn't in Las Vegas, but there was something out there for her. There had to be. Because she couldn't live in the past anymore.


	4. somewhere, my love

Somewhere, my love.

(A.N Thank you for the continued reviews, it means a lot.)

'Uh, Warrick?'

Warrick looked up at the receptionist, a blond by the name of Mary, with a questioning look.

'A letter came in for Sara- what do you think I should do with it?'

'I don't know- she's been gone six months, do whatever you did with the rest of her stuff.' He told her, walking off, missing the surprised and somewhat hurt expression on the receptionist's face at his sudden harsh tone.

Nick, who had come in, unseen, behind Warrick turned to the receptionist. 'I can take it.' He told her, taking the letter from her before following Warrick into the building. He glanced at the letter, at the typed address and no return and guessed it was probably junk rather than official. Still, he could always forward it. Sara didn't have to know he'd been the one to forward junk mail for her.

He caught up with Warrick in the break room. He was stood before his opened locker, leaning against the frame, his head hanging. Nick didn't say anything, the closing of the break door had announced his presence, and Warrick pushed himself away from the locker, bending to get something out of his bag.

'You all right, man?' Nick asked as he turned the dial on his own locker, dumping his bag in it.

There was a pause before Warrick answered. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.' He dropped to the bench and started unlacing his sneakers. He shouldn't have reacted like that. Not just to her name. It had been six months. One night together and six months of heartache- something didn't add up there. But however much he tried, he just couldn't stop thinking about her.

Nick looked at Warrick, wanting to say something, just not knowing how to start, where to start. Warrick had made it abundantly clear that it wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss.

Warrick stood up again before any words of wisdom came to him, leaving him no choice but to follow him through to the break room, sitting through another round of assignments. Life going on as normal. Warrick still looked around expecting another person to walk in and join them. He didn't know why, though. Sara had never been late in her life.

The usual murder and mayhem resounded for the next ten hours, taking his mind away from hopeless thoughts to something that at least made sense, had meaning. 

Back in the locker room, with one suspect in custody and another with every cop this side of the Mississippi looking for them, there was nothing else they could do. They'd collected the evidence. The rest would depend on fate. Otherwise know as the justice department.

Nick had followed him in. 'Well that was one of the better cases.' He said as he collapsed on the bench.

Warrick gave him a sideways questioning look.

'well, there was actual evidence to collect, an actual suspect to find, and even a reason.' Nick clarified.

Warrick couldn't disagree there. 'True.'

'You coming for breakfast?' Nick asked, changing into a clean t-shirt.

'I think I'm just gonna go crash.' Warrick said, rescuing his bag and closing his locker door.

'Oh come on. Quick bacon roll round the corner.' Nick coaxed.

'Just cause you fancy the waitress.' Warrick said. 'You do realise she's about nineteen.'

'She's twenty-one and in college actually. And I don't fancy her. We just chat sometimes.'

Warrick didn't dignify that with a comment, but he did throw Nick a look. 'Come on.' he finally said. 'I suppose someone's gotta keep a check on your wandering eye.'

They walked round to the diner that was almost totally frequented by cops. Not that the owners minded that much. Cops weren't known to have small appetites, after all. 

They ate in relative silence. Of course, Nick had plenty he wanted to say, all of which he knew Warrick didn't want to hear.

He had been in contact with Sara. They emailed occasionally, Nick filling her in on the gossip and goings on around the lab, Sara telling him a lot about nothing about her life back up North. Nick was hoping that if he mentioned enough about the lab he could make Sara really start to miss it, to want to come back. He had certainly missed her in the last few months. Things were different around the lab, in a way that wasn't easy to define, but that was certainly noticeable. They'd worked together for over three years; Sara's departure had left a hole that was proving impossible to fill. 

They'd had a few trainees drafted in. The longest any of them had stayed was six weeks. Enough time to realise that death was in no way glamorous, often stunk to the high heavens, and the smell of death was almost impossible to move from skin or clothes. The one that had lasted six weeks only did so he knew because they'd gone through a bit of a lean time and that was when the first dead person who had lain undiscovered for a few days that had come in. All the teaching and theory in the world would never prepare a trainee for the smell of a decomposing body and how to deal with it.

Of course, he wasn't the only one that missed Sara. Greg had spent much of the first few weeks pining loudly away for her. Although the loud pining had gone, Nick knew that he was still genuinely stunned that Sara had moved on. They all were in a way. It was easy, when you worked together for so long to forget that sometimes things had to change.

Grissom was still the same old Grissom. Nick couldn't tell if he missed Sara or not. Then again, he could barely tell what Grissom felt about a lot of things, so not knowing his thoughts on this particular subject wasn't surprising, if a little frustrating. They had all, after all, heard the rumours of Sara's little surprise date request and the fact that Grissom had turned her down.

Catherine, he suspected, didn't mind one bit going back to being the only female on the team. After all, she had lost that position on Sara's arrival from San Francisco, and there had been a little tension on and off since then. However, even she seemed to have noticed that something was lagging without their other member of the team around. Being the only female had its downs as well as its ups, after all.

Nick studied Warrick over the top of his bacon roll. He knew out of all the team, Warrick felt the absence the most. The rest of the team didn't know about that night, and Warrick, for his part, hid his feelings like a pro. Only someone who knew Warrick well could pick out the moments he was thinking of her. Like the almost casual look at the door before assignments were announced, like he was expecting someone else to come in. Or when he was working a case that he knew Sara would get a kick out of. Warrick and Sara had worked a lot together, worked well together, and Nick knew that Warrick was missing that professional relationship as much as the other one.

They didn't talk then. Or they did talk, but about an upcoming basketball game they were hoping to score tickets for, or about how they were gonna get the night off for a new nightclub opening at the weekend. Nick wanted to ask about Sara, about when his dumb friend was actually planning to get in contact with her. He didn't then, as he hadn't for the last six months. He'd said all he could on the subject, Warrick had to be the one to act now.

Warrick left first, as soon as he could and not be considered rude in doing so. Every conversation he had with Nick now felt like it had the subtext attached to it of Sara. Even if Nick never mentioned her by name, or even at all, it was still there, a knowing that Warrick hadn't made any attempt to contact her, and that Nick knew that.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to. Contact her that was. He did. He often thought about it. Pulled her number up on his cell. Started writing an email. But every time his finger would hover over the call button, or the keyboard. Wanting to, but not quite getting enough courage to actually do it.

Was that it? Just fear? If it was just fear, then surely he should have been able to get over it. Of course, time hadn't helped in this. The longer he left it, the harder he found it.

There was something more, though. More than just a fear of what to say after all this time, or what Sara would say. It was the deep hurt left by her departure. She hadn't just moved, she'd moved out of state, out of his life completely. She had gone without letting him try to convince her to stay. She'd still left after that night. How much could she have thought of it if she had been able to leave without a word, without even so much as a goodbye?

And while he hadn't tried to contact her, she hadn't contacted him either. She hadn't sent an email, or picked up the phone.

He sometimes tried to imagine her now, in a new life, a new job, new people around. She had probably moved on, forgotten all about him, about that night. She probably already had a new man in her life, after all someone as beautiful as she was wouldn't find it hard to find someone else.

A new life that didn't involve Vegas, didn't involve being a CSI, didn't involve looking at dead bodies anymore, and most of all didn't involve him. That was what she had wanted; after all, she had made that more than clear. A life away from Vegas. What would he be able to say in a phone call, an email that would convince her that a life in Vegas wasn't so bad after all? That maybe the idea of the two of them wasn't so much a fantasy like it had become in his mind, that they could exist as a pair. That he desperately wanted them to be a pair, that he loved her and nothing was helping him stop that.

Nothing. That was what. There was nothing he could say. Not now, not after all this time. Nothing he had said had kept her in Vegas, so why would any words he said now bring her back.

No, she had a new life. And he had to get on with his. That much was clear. And he knew the only way to do that. Back at his house, he picked up the phone, and after checking that it wasn't too early he called. A number he had been given a few days ago. A girl who was cute and funny, and here in the city. He arranged a date for that weekend. He could get on with his life as much as she could. One date at a time if need be.


	5. falling to pieces?

Falling to pieces?

By Ria

Characters not mine, story is.

Check out my site www.csichaostheory.co.uk

The call caught her between the shower and the bedroom. Wrapped solely in a towel, she rushed to answer before her answering service did, picking it up just in time.

At first, it didn't make sense. She recognised Greg's voice more by the whir of the mass spectrometer in the background than actually by his voice. It was shaking, sounding close to, or already in, tears. And then it wasn't so much the voice not making sense, it was the words that didn't.

Grissom…shot…backdoor…

Sara sat down hard on the floor next to the phone, not noticing the hard cold wood floor underneath her as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

'When?' she finally asked, her voice sounding hollow and far away. Not her own.

'This morning. Neighbour called the police. It's bad Sara. They won't tell us anything, but it's obvious.'

For a moment both were silent. Sara ran a hand over her face, pushing wet hair out of her eyes, hardly daring to believe that something had happened to Grissom.

'Sara?' Greg's voice was still now, she could imagine him using the moment to compose himself, to get a little self control back, like she had done.

'Yeah.'

'Come back.' Greg said, a forcefulness entering his voice. 'Please. Come and see him. The team needs you.'

Sara went back to silent, her heart, which was already loud and fast in her chest started hammering in her ear, making it sound even louder to her. She wondered abstractedly if Greg could hear it too.

'I'll pick you up at the airport.' Greg started again. 'Just let me know what flight.' He instructed, his voice hard now, almost demanding. Then his voice changed, dropping almost to a whisper, a heartbreaking plea that tore at her already breaking heart. 'Please Sara, it's all falling to pieces.'

Sara made up her mind then and there, nodding even though she knew Greg couldn't see her. 'I'll let you know my flight.'

She heard the sigh of relief over the phone line, but Greg didn't say anything further. Or if he did it was after Sara had gently replaced the phone.

She sat there for a long moment, remembering Grissom, trying to imagine him shot, trying to imagine the how, and more than anything the why. The nature of the job, the people they made contact with every day were the prime suspect, but, as they all knew, there were a lot of crazy people in the world.

She eventually picked up the phone again, dialling information for an airline number, eventually booking one from Boston in a couple of hours to get her to Las Vegas mid afternoon. She text the details to Greg, as she couldn't face hearing his voice again over the telephone. He text back almost immediately, with a simple "c u there", but Sara could almost feel his relief in the words.

She slowly got up, making her way back to her bedroom. Her hair had almost dried, leaving it a frizzy mess, and Sara knew it was gonna take a miracle for it to go straight. She changed into the first clothes she laid her hands on, jeans and a tank top, shrugging on a fleece over the top seeing as it was only forty degrees outside. The hairbrush thought her hair with every stroke but eventually at least all the knots were out, and she tied it back in a simple plait. Every few moments, her mind would return to the fact that Grissom had been shot. Would remember all over again. Would hurt all over again.

The airport was fairly quiet, and as she sought out the flight to Las Vegas on the departures board, she remembered the last time she had been at an airport, looking for a flight to San Francisco then. Remembered waiting for Warrick to come and find her even though she knew in her heart that he wasn't coming. Now she was going back there, six months and a week after she left. She wished that it was for better reasons than this.

The flight was almost empty, and Sara had a pick of seats, choosing one with a window view over the top of the wing. The skies were very clear, and she could make out villages and towns far below. She tried to keep her mind on something, watching the TV, listening to music, but her concentration would inevitable fall back on Grissom. Back to the man she had met all those years ago at college, become so enthralled in the subjects he spoke on that she had completely changed her career plans to follow him into forensics. The person whose mind utterly fascinated her, and frustrated her, in it's brilliance. She had never found anything that challenged her quite the way Grissom did. In her ideas, her thinking, the way she viewed scenes of crimes…silently she willed the plane to fly faster, wanting to know more, wanting to hear that Grissom was going to be ok. Not being able to stop the thought that he could already be dead and there was no way she would know.

Greg, as promised, met her at the gate. She was through quickly, as she had only a carry on bag with her. He smiled in greeting, a small smile, but it soothed her nerves. 'Any news?' She asked as she walked over to him.

He shook his head. 'All they've said is he's in surgery.'

For a moment, they stood looking at each other, before, almost as one, they moved to hug each other. For a moment, each breathed in a small amount of comfort in the other's arms.

They walked out to Greg's car, a lab car it looked like, and Sara reasoned that on a day like today, no one would really care what car he took. As they walked she stripped off the fleece, the familiar impressive heat of the Nevada desert instantly making its presence felt. It was such a contrast to the early winter sunshine she had left behind.

Sara waited till they were on the road into town to ask what had happened, noticing that Greg was driving in the general direction of Desert Palm without her needing to ask.

Greg shrugged in response to her question, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, keeping his emotions to himself. 'We got the call at around nine this morning. We all rushed over to the hospital, but they're doing their usual family only routine, and all we know is he was rushed to surgery at around lunchtime and he's still in there.' He paused for a moment before adding. 'Well, at least he was when I left to pick you up.'

'Thanks for calling me Greg.' Sara said softly.

Greg glanced in her direction, seemed about to shrug again but thought better of it. 'Seemed only right you should know. You've probably known him longer than all of us.'

They sat in silence for the majority of the journey, Sara staring, mostly unseeing, at the passing landscape, desert giving way to building, the outskirts of Vegas, eventually growing more and more populace as they ventured further into the city depths. Sara remembered it all as if she'd been here yesterday, not six months ago. Then again she had lived here long enough that it wasn't likely to fade in her memory anytime in the near future. Finally Greg pulled them into the underground car park of Desert Palm hospital, a car park that was depressingly familiar to Sara given all the nights she had spent there during the investigation of a crime.

Greg stopped at a spot close to the exit, turning off the engine and opening the door. He turned back to Sara when she made no move to exit the vehicle, sat just where she had been all journey. He waited for her to say something, seeing her internal struggle, waiting patiently for her to collect herself. 

'Sara- we're here.' He said, rather stupidly, but he didn't know what else to say to return her to the present.

He saw her take a deep breath, blow it out slowly, finally reaching a hand for the door handle. She paused, her hand on the handle, 'God, Greg, why is this so hard? Why did this happen?'

Greg didn't have any of the answers, so instead, reached across, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and just let it rest there for a moment. 'It's not gonna get any easier.' He said quietly.

Sara finally seemed to reach a resolve, her movements jerky and uncoordinated as she stepped out of the car, Greg joining her and they walked to the entrance of the hospital.

Sara had never had any particular attachment to hospitals till she had started working in forensics. Then they had become a symbol of the hate and rage that were every day occurrences in their job. Or used to be, anyway. 

Desert Palms wasn't a bad hospital, it was large and airy, clean at least. Greg guided her to a bank of elevators, pressing the button for the forth floor, the surgical floor where he had left everyone barely an hour before.

They were still sitting, waiting. That was what was driving everyone crazy, the waiting, and it was beginning to show. Almost as one, they turned at the sound of the elevator opening, glancing at them. Almost as one, they did a double take at Sara. Feeling self conscious, Sara looked around for a diversion, but not finding one, she followed Greg to the seated CSIs, greeting them quietly. Catherine and Nick both smiled in greeting, but it was a pained smile, quickly gone. Nick added a hello. She didn't know what Warrick was doing, she could barely manage a look at him.

'Any news?' Sara asked Catherine, shifting slightly on her feet in nervousness.

'No. Not yet. They won't tell us anything.' Catherine said, a bitter quality in her voice.

'Anyone phoned his family- his mother?'

'Brass contacted his mother, but she's not well herself, and can't travel.' Catherine said. 'I don't think he has a lot of other family.'

For a moment, everyone was quiet. Considering that she had been gone six months, Sara was glad there wasn't any awkwardness or general wariness towards her. Well, from most people anyway. The stifling awareness she was getting from Warrick wasn't helping her feel comfortable, but as that was because of an entirely different situation, Sara was happy to ignore it for the moment.

She looked around, spying a desk over to her right, where medical personnel hovered, looking calmly busy. She casually walked over to it as Greg took a seat. Identifying the nurse in charge, she smiled as best she could, asking if there was any news about Gill Grissom yet. Feeling weird using Gris's full name as she couldn't remember the last time she had called him that.

The nurse smiled politely, asking if she was family. Sara thought of lying, telling her she was a niece or something, but not being able to get the words past her lips. Lying was never her strong suit anyway. She shook her head. 'I'm an old friend. His work colleagues contacted me to tell me he was here.' She supplied.

'Well, I'll tell you what I told the others. He's in surgery. He'll be out soon and transferred to the intensive care unit. I'm sure you'll get to see him there if you're patient. That's all I can tell you I'm afraid.'

Sara smiled in understanding, nodding her appreciation and turning to the others. Taking a breath, she walked back over to them. She shook her head when Catherine began to ask if she'd found out anything more. 'What happened?' She asked, taking a seat besides Catherine.

Catherine shrugged. 'I don't know, exactly. We were just finishing up shift when we got the call. GSW to the abdomen, no sign of forced entry, no other injury.'

'Who's got the case?'

'Brass demanded it, but I don't know if the sheriff let him take it. We've all been here, so I don't know what's going on.'

Sara nodded. They settled back into silence, all of them thinking along the lines that if the worrying didn't kill them, the waiting around would.

It was evening when Sara got her first glimpse of Grissom. Only limited number of visitors were allowed in the ICU at a time, she and Greg were the last to visit. The machines, the drips, the drains, Sara saw none of them as she stared in shock at the man lying in the bed. She had never thought of Grissom as small before, as old. But swathed in hospital machinery, his face a close match to the white pillowcase it leaned against, he looked both small and old. 

He wasn't intubated, an oxygen mask stifling his face. Sara looked up and away, focusing on a near by window, at the glimpse of darkening sky outside of the window, trying to compose her thoughts, her feelings into some sort of order. But when she looked back at Grissom, still lying deadly still on a bed that was too high off the ground to be normal, Sara felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, wondered if she could choke on the large ball that had lodged itself a the back of her throat. Sara wasn't unhappy when the nurse said they had to leave, that Mr Grissom needed to rest. She hurriedly blinked back tears as Greg briefly caught her hand, squeezed it as they walked out of the unit, feeling guilty that she was glad to escape from the scene.

Catherine was just putting on her coat when they returned to the waiting room attached to the unit. Sara didn't ask, but she offered an explanation anyway. 'I'm in charge, so I've got to be in tonight. I've got to see Lindsey first.'

Nick spoke up then. 'Honest, Cath, we can come in too.'

It was obvious this had been an ongoing discussion. Warrick was nodding, agreeing with what Nick had said.

But Catherine shook her head. 'You don't have to, guys. Ecklie's already called in people to cover the shift for us. I'm only going in so all hell doesn't break loose in the entire shift's absence. Take the time. We'll never get it again.' Her reasoning, she obviously thought, was sound. Nick and Warrick were still shaking their heads, but didn't disagree again.

'Look, visiting times are over. You've been here all day. Go and get some rest. I've a feeling you're gonna need it in the next few days.'

Nick and Warrick glanced at each other, shrugged, their silence showing they were going to do what Catherine wanted, if they didn't agree with it.

They all got ready to leave, Greg bidding them goodnight, telling Catherine he'd see her later. Unfortunately for Greg, there was no one to cover his shift, and the DNA lab was already in a backlog. Sara walked out with Catherine, not because she was necessarily avoiding Warrick. But with all that she wanted to say, she knew the hospital was not the place to say it.

'Where are you staying?' Catherine asked her as they walked out.

Sara shrugged. 'I'll find a hotel.'

'If you've got time, later, can you come by the lab?' Catherine asked her.

Sara turned curious eyes on her.

'We need to talk about some things.' Was all Catherine said in explanation.

Sara shrugged. She couldn't exactly claim to be busy later. 'Sure.'

They reached the ground floor, standing awkwardly in the lobby area. 'Uh, can I offer you a lift anywhere?' Catherine asked.

'No, it's fine. Get home to Lindsey. I'll see you later.' Sara told her. She watched whilst Catherine walked over to the entrance to the underground car park, before turning round herself and walking towards the front entrance. As she walked past the entrance to the stairwell, Nick and Warrick, with Greg walked through the door.

'Hey Sare, you staying in town?' Nick asked.

'Yeah, for a few days.' Sara answered, finding herself again standing around awkwardly in the lobby.

'Cool, we should catch up some time.' Nick said.

'Sure, I'll give you a call.'

Warrick was silent, looking around the lobby.

Nick glanced between him and Sara, before looking at Greg. 'You wanna grab some dinner before you start shift?' He asked.

Greg, even if he hadn't picked up on anything weird between Sara and Warrick, nodded at the sound of food.

'See you guys later.' Nick said, walking off quickly, hoping that the pair would use the time constructively.

The pair watching them walk off turned to each other. 'Tough break, huh?' Warrick said.

Sara frowned slightly.

'You get all settled somewhere else, and this happens.' If Warrick was trying to hide the bitterness in his voice, he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

Sara hadn't wanted to get into anything in the middle of the hospital, much less in the packed lobby, but she wasn't going to stand there and have barbs thrown at her.

'I'm sure Grissom didn't ask to be shot.' She answered mildly.

'You got here mighty quick.' He added, hurt almost seething through his pores.

'The wonders of the aviation age.' Sara said, leaning on sarcasm to shield herself from the obvious connotation.

'Yeah, very convenient.' Warrick said. 'Drop everything and you can be in Vegas the same day.'

Her heart rate was rising with every syllable, every vague assault on her actions. She was sure her face was flushing but still held her temper, her ground.

'I've got to go, get a hotel for the night.' She eventually said.

'Oh yeah. Must be a bit like déjà vu for you.' Warrick commented, almost as if it came to him as an afterthought.

Sara had turned to walk out of the hospital, but turned back at his words, giving him a frown. 'What do you mean by that?' She asked, her voice held much more control than she felt she had.

'Well, dropping everything to come to Vegas for Grissom.' Warrick said. 'That's what you did before, wasn't it?'

Sara shook her head. A million and one replies floated through her brain, but her anger was shaking any control she still maintained, and she knew that if this started, it wasn't going to end peacefully. 'Whatever.' She muttered, turning on her heel, stalking off to the front entrance. If Warrick had a reply, she didn't hear it, too caught up in trying to stop the impending wave of anger from crashing down on her. Because in her state, it couldn't just be anger. It would be the tears she had refused to so far cry all day. It would be the pain at seeing Grissom lying looking so broken in a bed upstairs. It would be feeling the hurt and the confusion and the anger all over again at what had happened six months ago, that however much she tried to resolve to another time and place never quite left her. It would be seeing the pain in his eyes, the anger that had all been aimed at her.

Anger that she couldn't understand, didn't get. He had left. He had been the one to walk out that morning without a simple goodbye. He had been the one to effectively put the dampeners on any relationship they might have had, so why was he so hostile towards her. Why was he angry at her?

She hailed a cab just outside the hospital, lucking out and getting one that was just driving past. As she sat back against the seat, telling the driver to take her to a hotel anywhere but on the strip, she happened to glance back at the entrance to the hospital. More than surprised to see Warrick standing there, watching helplessly as the cab sped off. For a second he caught her eye, before he looked away, turning back into the hospital. In his look, poorly disguised, Sara was sure there had been regret. She just wasn't sure which part he regretted most. That she had gone, or that she had come back again.


	6. it wasn't my idea to come back

It wasn't my idea to come back.

By Ria

www.csichaostheory.co.uk

The room Sara eventually checked into was small but fairly clean, functional if all you needed was a bed for the night. Sara wasn't sure that it was even going to see that much action. She dumped her bag before going out again to find something to eat. It was dark when she got back to the hotel, and after taking a much needed shower and changing clothes, she got the hotel doorman to hail her a cab. The streets grew more familiar the closer to the CSI labs they got, and for a few moments, when the cab pulled up outside of the low slung building, it was all Sara could do to sit and stare at it.

The cabbie managed to wait about five seconds before unsubtly clearing his throat from the front seat. 'Eight dollars and twenty cents.' He told her loudly, breaking her out of the spell that had temporarily held her captive.

Sara paid up and got out, for a moment loitering on the sidewalk in an attempt to collect her thoughts. It didn't seem possible that she had walked out of here six months ago promising herself that she would never come back here.

Her reasons at the time were multi-faceted but boiled down to the same thing. She couldn't cope anymore. She had burned out. She couldn't do her job anymore, not effectively anyway.

At the time it had been the right choice to make. Standing there and looking up at a building that she had spent so much time populating, six months seemed a long time ago.

Stepping into the building felt akin to going home. Living six months in rented accommodation, for the first time in a long time she felt like she was where she was meant to be. It surprised her, that feeling, getting it in this place, but she didn't have time to dwell on it; a familiar voice yelled at her down the hall.

Sara turned a smile on Greg, a genuine smile that after so long some things hadn't changed. Greg still bounded around like an energetic puppy. He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the break room, drawing smiles and looks as they went, more than a few greetings thrown their way.

The break room was still functional rather than pretty, although the smell of brewing coffee was as welcoming as ever. She poured herself and Greg a mug each, settling it on the low table by the couches.

'Is Catherine in yet?' She asked as Greg sat down too.

'She's around somewhere. It's a pretty slow night.' He didn't add the luckily but Sara heard it there anyway. When it was one of your own, it changed everything.

'Who's working Grissom's case?' Sara asked.

'I should be getting back to work.' Greg said, dodging the question with no attempt to answer it. He stood up, coffee in hand.

'Greg?' Sara's voice stopped him before he could walk out. 'What's going on?'

Greg turned to her for a moment, not smiling. 'Go talk to Catherine.' He advised before walking out. For a moment, the Greg she had known working in the lab was gone, no more the youthful scientist keen to please. He was suddenly older, wiser, hardened. It was the Greg she had heard on the phone that morning telling her to come here.

As he walked away, again Sara did exactly what he told her to do.

She found Catherine in Grissom's office. Considering that his was the only office in the CSI labs, it had been the first place that she had tried. Catherine was in the middle of staring at a place on the back of the wall as Sara walked in, interrupting her. Catherine straightened up, shuffling a few papers around, as Sara looked over her shoulder. 'Anything interesting over there?' She asked with a small smile.

Catherine allowed the comment a sarcastic look as she gestured for Sara to sit down. 'I've been trying to get my head round some of this paperwork that needs to be done.' She put the paper down on the desk, straightening it in a pile. 'I swear, Grissom might be a genius but he sucks at office keeping.'

'I don't think Grissom will take that as much of an offence.'

'No, I don't suppose he will.' Catherine said with a smile. 'Oh well. He'd better be out of that hospital quick or I'm taking all this to him.'

'Have you heard anything?' Sara said, growing serious.

'I phoned up a while back- all they'd say was he was stable.'

'Well that's something I suppose.' Sara said.

For a moment they were both quiet, contemplating the man whose office they sat in.

'So, what do you want, Catherine? I'm sure you didn't invite me here to complain about Grissom's work habits.'

Catherine smiled at that. 'I asked you here…to ask you a favour.'

'No.' Sara said straight out before Catherine continued.

'You don't even know what I'm going to ask!' Catherine exclaimed.

'I don't need to hear it. I won't do it.' Sara said, something that Greg had said coming back to her. She had known what Catherine was going to ask before she'd even started to speak.

'Sara…' Catherine said, a pleading quality to her tone.

'What about the other shifts?'

'I don't want the other shifts to do it! And none of us can do it, obviously. That leaves you, Sara.'

'You want me to investigate Grissom's attack? Even though I've known him since I was in Grad school, and you don't think someone's going to have issues with that?'

'The DA wants a quick case. And more crucially you haven't been here, and you don't work here. That makes you the best candidate. And I know you can be objective, that you can do your job without being pressured from above.'

She stopped, probably cause Sara was still shaking her head. 'I can't do it, Cath.' The pleading quality had somehow transferred itself to her voice now.

Catherine didn't say anything straight away, just looked at her, carefully assessing her next choice of words. 'I don't want some stranger here, trampling over everything, asking about Grissom. You know him, as well as anyone does. Everyone is already shocked and finding it hard to cope, the last thing we need is some well meaning person from somewhere else muscling in here and causing more people to be on edge.'

Sara had stopped shaking her head. It didn't mean she was liking this idea any more, though. 'What happens, when you don't like what I find. Or I can't arrest a suspect?' Sara finally asked.

Catherine tried not to visibly wince at the memories. 'I know you're a damn good investigator, Sara. And I will take anything you report as final.' She said.

'I don't like this, Cath. This is Grissom. He's lying there in that hospital bed.'

'Which is exactly why you should be doing this!' Catherine interrupted her. 'Don't you think he deserves it? Deserves some justice? Look, if I could do it, I would; but I'm too close- it would be thrown straight out of court.'

'I have a job, you know.'

'Look- it'll take you what, a few days, a week max to complete your investigation? I'm sure you can get that off work. Then you can go back home and get on with your life. But I'm sure that you'll want to be around to make sure Grissom is ok.'

Sara sighed. She looked all around, at the jars of animal embryos, samples of insects. She didn't want to do this; she didn't want to be the one to be investigating Grissom's attack, to have that much pressure on her to get results. But something Catherine had just said caught her by surprise. Caught her on the hop as it were. And for some reason, she couldn't think of any reason not to.

She sat there, in silence. Catherine joined her, knowing Sara enough to know when to stay silent, to let her make up her own mind. Sara sighed. Shifted in her seat. Sighed again. Because she couldn't see another option. She knew what it was like. After all she had been the outsider- the one who came in to investigate. It didn't matter that this time she wasn't investigating one of their own, it still involved them. They were emotionally attached to the case; they wanted what everyone else wanted when they knew the victim, were involved with the victim. They wanted justice, revenge…an arrest, someone to hold up a perp and say this is the bad guy, and he did this, and now he's going to the state penitentiary for X amount of years to pay for what he did. And Sara was also intimately aware of the likely reaction if she couldn't hold up that someone.

Then this was Grissom. She had as much feelings, and emotions about this as anyone else. More perhaps, or certainly different, anyway. She wanted the bad guy put away. Wanted justice. Revenge, even. She wanted to be the one to put him away, assuming it was a him of course, wanted to be the one to find him. That thirst hadn't left her in the last six months. If anything it had returned. Her passion, her energy for the job had been the thing to desert her, to make her burn up, force her to make a conscious decision to leave. And now it was back, there burning slowly away inside of her.

Even if it was for just this one case, maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Even as she was nodding her assent to Catherine, though, even as in her mind she was trying to convince herself of that, her heart was quietly, but surely, convincing her that it wasn't going to be that easy. That one case wasn't going to be enough.

Case file in hand, she deliberately avoided Greg on the way back out. Her first port of call, on this case, would be Brass, who was personally overseeing the case, even though it wasn't strictly a homicide. He greeted her in his usual manner; he told her the pertinent facts of the case without even so much as a "welcome back". Sara smiled as she listened; it was like she had never left.

He drove her to the scene of the crime. Sara was deliberately thinking about it in those terms; not Grissom's house, or Grissom's attack. Brass was doing it to, strictly talk of the victim, never Grissom. It made it easier. 

In a way.

To see the hole in the wall from the bullet. To see the pool of blood already congealed in the doorway. To see scratch marks on the door, and blood spots on the walls. To disassociate it from Grissom, to not think of it as Grissom's blood on the floor, or Grissom's coat flung haphazardly over a seat at the kitchen table; that the now cold coffee, and slice of toast ready to be consumed were from a man they knew; who was now laid out on a hospital bed.

Sara worked diligently, mostly in silence. Slipping back into routines, procedures she knew as well as her bedtime routine. It made it easier, that she didn't have to think of anything but the particulars of the case.

It came as a shock, when she had finished collecting and collating and thinking over the case, as she packed her case and nodded at Brass who had silently watched her throughout, that Warrick hadn't crossed her mind once.

The man she had spent six months close to obsessing over, someone who could barely leave her thoughts, had not entered them since she'd stepped into this scene. Was this progress? Or was it that with having too many thoughts in it's space, her mind had just shut down that part temporarily. Because certainly, as they travelled back to the labs in the same silence they had travelled to it, Warrick was suddenly there, all around her. Sara thought back to their short, certainly not peaceful, conversation in the lobby in the hospital. Wondered what he'd have to say when he found out she was staying to work Grissom's case. Wishing she could shut down that part of her brain again, because she knew exactly what he would say, and exactly what she would say in response.

Brass glanced over at her as they pulled into the CSI labs. 'You ok?' he asked softly.

'I'll be fine.' Sara said firmly.

'Look- I know you've been a way a while. But I can't think of anyone else who should be working this case. And if you have any trouble. Any hassle. You point them my way.'

Sara wondered, as she nodded and moved to open the door, what he'd think if she sent Warrick his way. Because if she was going to get any hassle, it would be from him, it would be from Warrick for taking the case, and her reasons behind it, not for the reasons that Brass was alluding to. Although, it was nice to know that she had that option.

By ten the next morning, Sara was feeling that familiar frustration, that familiar edginess of working a case. But another feeling, that was also so familiar. The rush of working a case; of getting a hit off AFIS to a partial she had found on the doorknob. Of sending Brass on the judge hunt to get a warrant. Of having a name, and a suspect. Of hitting one dead end to having another route open up for her. The partial was meant to be there.

There were many things that were not, however. A long claw ended lever used on the door. No fingerprints but epithelial cells, maybe, off the end. Criminals were getting smarter; they knew where fingerprints were, and how to disguise them. However DNA off a tiny cell that was not visible to the human eye was beyond most people. Sara was running the bullet through ballistics, waiting for results to come back to point in a direction when Greg knocked on the doorframe to the lab.

'Got the DNA for you. No hit on CODIS, but it is XY.'

'Perps male; there's a surprise.' Sara murmured taking the piece of paper.

'You didn't think it was possible Grissom had a jealous ex lover or something?' Greg asked with a smile.

'I don't think things could change that much in six months.' Sara said.

'True. Not much has changed.' Greg said, coming closer, taking a seat. 'What you doing?'

Sara pointed with her chin at the computer. 'I'm running the shell from the bullet through the databases, see if it's been used before.' Sara told him.

'So what's your initial feeling?' Greg asked.

Sara hesitated, not knowing if she wanted to get into it with anyone this early.

'It's ok, you don't have to.' Greg said to rescue the silence.

'No, it's not that. I just don't have enough yet to form that kind of feeling. It's all been too much of a shock to process.'

'Grissom was meant to be at work. Did you know that? He went home early cause it was so quiet.' Greg told her.

'It could be a case of wrong place, wrong time.' Sara said with a shrug, as the computer beeped loudly to signify the end of its search. 'No match.' Sara sighed.

Sara stood up. 'I'm gonna go see Brass. See if he's got anything more. Thanks, Greg.'

'Just bring me something to compare; it'll be top priority.' He told her.

'I know.'

Sara stopped in a deserted hallway, leaning back against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. She was running through the motions, but not making any tracks. She wondered briefly what the hell she was doing. Then decided that answer was too long winded, and decided instead she had to step back briefly, get everything in order. It wasn't the first time Greg had come to find her; although it was the first time because he had results for her. She knew he was meant well, making sure she had everything she needed, Catherine was doing the same. 

If it was her, on the outside looking in, Sara knew she would likely be having the same reaction. However, it wasn't. She was the one they were expecting to deliver results, and Sara was feeling the pressure. Sara also knew she had to be very careful not to compromise any results by disclosing anything, even inadvertently to someone who didn't need to know. Court cases had been thrown out on a lot less, and if Sara had a suspect, she didn't want to lose him in the system.

She wanted to get the guy who had done this, and as Grissom was so fond of saying, there was going to be only one way of doing it. She had to follow the evidence, see where it led. It had to be the way. She just had to make sense of the evidence she had. She had to go back to the scene.

Standing outside, she called through to Brass, telling him her plan. He agreed, asked if she wanted some backup. Sara declined, wanting some space to take a time out and examine the case without being watched from above.

Catherine had afforded her full, if temporary, privileges, which meant she was back to the holster on her hip and a badge around her neck. It also meant she had some transport, and didn't need to rely on cabs when she was working. It was strange how un-strange carrying the badge, the gun felt.

She exited through the back door, only to bash into Warrick coming in. He looked good, and she couldn't help the flip-flop reaction of her heart on sight.

He looked her up and down as she was forced to step back into the lab. He took off the aviator sunglasses on entering the gloom, taking in the gun and badge.

'So, it's true then?'

Sara looked around seeing an empty corridor behind her before looking back at Warrick. 'What's true?' She asked casually.

'That you're back. Working Grissom's case.' Warrick's tone told her he wasn't buying the innocent act.

She considered sarcasm, but settled for a mild 'news travels fast in this place.' She looked at him, his arms crossed, his shoulders tense. He hadn't changed much in appearance. His hair slightly shorter maybe. His brown eyes were piercing as he looked at her. He looked angry. Not unlike last time they had a talk. She just wasn't sure what she was meant to have done that was so bad.

Or why she wasn't angry at him.

'So, any suspects yet? An arrest?' Warrick, it seemed, wasn't avoiding the sarcasm.

'What is it that I've done that's so bad?' Sara hissed at him.

But Warrick either didn't want to get into it in the lab, or didn't have an answer to her question. 'You know, if you need a hand, everyone's around.' He said, 'In case you've forgotten procedure or something.' He added. 'I've got to go.' He added, walking past her, leaving her stunned, standing alone in the middle of corridor. Feeling the biting sting of his harsh words cut deep. She wasn't going to leave it there, though. She'd had enough of biting comments. Enough of his tone.

She traced back to the break room, then the locker room, finding him at his locker. Words floated, echoed in the room, and at first Sara assumed there was someone else in the room. It wasn't till she looked round that she saw Warrick was speaking into his cell-phone, his back to her. She turned round, deciding that it wasn't really the time or place anyway for this conversation. They were both emotional, too emotional.

'Babe, hey, I said I'd see you tonight and I meant it.' Sara stopped short at the locker door at Warrick's soft teasing tone. 'Yeah, I know, I missed you too.'

Sara opened the door, stepping silently out of the locker room, leaning her back against the door. At least she knew now. No conversation needed. He obviously hadn't been thinking about her the same as she'd been thinking about him.

She should have realised when he hadn't bothered to say goodbye.


	7. are we having fun yet?

Are we having fun yet?

By Ria

a.n. Thank you to anyone who has been reading this series and stuck with it, and especially for the feedback. This is the last but one part, and I promise it does come to a conclusion at least after all this angst. If you've missed parts you can find them archived at my site www.csichaostheory.co.uk

Sara worked hard, diligent, ever the professional. It had always served her well, her professionalism. It meant she could drop herself in work, anytime, any place, and not have to think about her life for a while. Or, more importantly, not think about him for a while.

The words stung. Re-treading the same conversation over and over. "I said I'd see you tonight…I missed you too." 

Of course Sara didn't know who the words were said to. They could have been to anyone. But she knew the tone, knew the affliction on the words would only ever be towards a lover. It made his behaviour over the last few meetings all the more incomprehensible; if he had someone else, why was he still bent out of shape at her leaving. He'd obviously moved on. More than she had managed anyway.

Not thinking about it. Sara reminded herself. Unfortunately, now she had all the time in the world to do just that. The case was cracked. The elation that should have been there had been severely dented, the satisfaction of a job well done absent in spite of the relative quick success.

It truly was a case of wrong place for Grissom, of rotten timing. An opportunistic house burglar, with Grandma's gun no less, out for a few bucks, ending up with an attempted murder rap instead. A seventeen year old who should have been in school. A smart enough boy that he knew to wear gloves to disguise finger prints. Not smart enough, seeing as he stripped off the gloves at the first trash can he came to, leaving inside a friction ridge print fat enough to put him away inside for a nice long stretch. DNA confirmed the story the print told. The boy, seeing all the evidence laid out in front of him had started crying. If Sara had been feeling slightly more sympathetic she would have felt sorry for him. Instead she just looked at the pathetic weeping creature in front of her, and wondered what on earth the world was coming to.

'It was just for a laugh, you know?' He had sniffed, looking at her before they led him away.

'A life for a laugh.' Sara had said bitterly. 'Nice trade.'

It was a disappointment really. That Grissom's life had almost been lost to that. For a laugh, for a game. For nothing. It was such a waste.

And now, paperwork sorted, evidence processed and packed as necessary, the news was making the rounds of the CSI labs that a perp had been found and was currently getting processed at the city jail. Sara had escaped before too many people could come find her and start asking questions about the case, but now found herself in limbo. Alone in a city that she used to call home. That still felt like the place she should be. She cruised around for a while, not wanting to go back to a hotel room she hadn't yet used than more than a dumping ground for a change of clothes. 

Finally she found herself heading toward the hospital. Someone should tell Grissom his shooter had been caught she decided.

It was evening, Sara realised when she got to the hospital, the sun almost an apparition at the horizon. It was as if the day had just by passed her completely. Considering she hadn't slept in almost thirty-six hours, it was only now that the lack of sleep was starting to hit. 

Grissom was still out cold, looking peaceful and asleep now. For a moment, Sara stood at the doorway, the door closed behind her, just watching him sleep. She'd known Grissom a long time, since Grad school, but had never seen him asleep before. She realised this wasn't exactly a natural slumber but Sara thought of it as one; the body using the downtime to heal. The nurse had told her that he was going to be fine. Sara would probably believe her more when Grissom was awake and alert and quoting Shakespeare. 

She didn't know where to start. She had so much to tell him. About the boy who had almost killed him. About coming back to Las Vegas after six months to find that everything and nothing had changed. She was so mixed up, and Grissom, lying there unable to interrupt offered the first silent, non-judgemental ear to listen to her. She had often wondered why people talked to people in a coma. It might be because on some level they could sense their presence; after all, hearing was one of the last senses to fail. But really, Sara thought, it was because having a person there, just there and not able to disagree or contradict or interrupt made having a conversation so much easier.

She eventually stepped further into the room. Sat down on the edge of the seat beside his bed, for a moment watching the ECG tracing of the electrical activity in Gris's heart before she opened her mouth and words just seemed to spill in a rush from it. She told him about the boy. About him breaking down and crying when he realised, not that he had almost killed someone but that he had been caught and was going away for it. How much of a waste, of a sense of failure Sara had felt when the case had unravelled in that way.

It was if she couldn't stop talking, because she found herself telling him about how hard it was to be back here. How hard, and yet the contradictory feeling she was getting of being in a place that she knew so well, that felt like home much more than where she currently lived. That she was starting to feel torn in the decision she had made to leave. At the time it had been the best thing to do, and yet now she was regretting the decision. 

She eventually grew silent, feeling as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her. Someone else knew. And yes, Grissom might have been unconscious, but just saying all her thoughts aloud made them seem a little bit more realistic to deal with. And this way she didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of someone knowing how she felt. She went back to watching the regular rise and fall of the ECG monitor, leaning her head back against the chair, lulled into sleep by the regular movement.

A hand on her shoulder shocked her awake. She looked up at Nick, watching her in concern, attempting a half smile. 'Hey.' She said, struggling to wake up properly, looking up at the clock to see she had only been asleep half an hour at the most.

'Hey.' Nick said, taking a seat next to her. 'How's he doing?'

'Well, he's unconscious.' Sara said, then bit down on the sarcasm. 'But he's going to be fine.'

Nick smiled. 'That's good to hear.'

Sara nodded in agreement.

'I heard you found the perp.' Nick commented.

Sara shrugged. 'Wasn't hard.'

'Still, at least someone will pay for this.'

Sara followed his eyeline, looking over at Grissom. 'Yeah, someone will pay.' Sara echoed, not sharing the fact that it didn't feel enough that the snivelling boy would be the only one paying.

'Are you alright?'

Sara turned at Nick's concerned tone. 'Just tired.' She told him.

Nick studied her for a moment too long before turning away, nodding. 'You wanna go get some dinner? I don't have to be at work for a few hours yet.'

'Sure, sounds good.'

They stayed only a little longer, till Catherine turned up, and they left her alone with Grissom. They drove to a little French restaurant off the beaten track they had been to before.

'So, how long are you gonna be in town?' Nick asked after they'd both ordered.

Sara shrugged, reaching for a piece of bread, realising only now how hungry she was. 'I don't know; a few days maybe.' She answered.

An awkward silence descended on the table, Sara knew Nick was dying to ask something but was stalling. She decided she was too tired to wait.

'You can ask, you know.' She told him.

He looked at her in surprise. 'Sorry?'

'Well you're dying to ask, aren't you? If I've talked to Warrick.'

Nick tried to look non-plussed, then spoiled it by asking 'have you?'

'We've exchanged a few words.' Sara said mildly.

'And how loud were those words?' Nick asked.

Sara smiled slightly. Then sighed. 'I don't get why he's angry at me.' She said, looking off, over his shoulder, for a moment forgetting he was there.

'Because he doesn't know how else to be.' Nick said softly. 'You know, he missed you.'

'Yeah, I'm sure between dating all these women he was really pining for me.' Sara said, settling for sarcasm to deflect the hurt boiling up inside of her.

Nick looked up confused. 'What other women?'

'Oh, I overheard him speaking to his girlfriend; looks like he found a way to get over me.'

'It hasn't been like that, Sara.'

'Yeah, I'm sure.'

'No, really. He was really cut up when you left.'

'Just not enough to come and tell me.'

'He was just hurt.'

'Yeah, and I suppose I was prancing around the hills singing the hills are alive.'

Nick smiled slightly at the image, but soon turned serious again. 'Why didn't you call him?' He asked instead.

'I wasn't the one making it abundantly clear that there was nothing there.'

'Well, he seemed to think you were.'

Sara looked at him, assessing his words.

'Gee, you know, both of you are as bad as the other. If just one of you had got over yourself and called…' He trailed off. 'You know it's not too late.'

'It's way too late.'

'You don't know that. You both left things up in the air- you need to get some resolve.'

'Well, seeing as whatever I say or do seems to set him off talking isn't the easiest thing to do.'

'Oh, Warrick wants to talk.' Nick reassured her. 'He's just like all us guys, waiting for someone else to start for him.'

'It was never meant to be this hard.' Sara murmured into her wine as she took a sip.

Nick looked at her, waiting for more.

'Do you know how much I didn't want to come back? It's crossed my mind countless times, but every time I went to pick up the phone I couldn't seem to dial. I was scared.' She shook her head. 'And it seems I had every right to be. Because I want to be here, I feel like I belong here, but I have no reason to come back for.'

'You have every reason to come back. Work-'

'That can't be the reason I come back.' Sara interrupted. 'I'll end up burning out again. And I've only just got over that. That was hard enough.' She muttered.

'Do you have feelings for him?' Nick asked abruptly.

Sara looked at him in shock. 'I don't think that's-'

'Because,' Nick carried on as if she hadn't spoken, 'only you can know that, and if you do, then don't you think you owe it to yourself to at least tell him that? Because Warrick assumes you don't.' he stopped, wondering if he had spoken out of turn. Then again, he had sat back and watched two people destroy themselves because neither seemed to be willing to start the conversation.

They ate, near enough in silence, Sara obviously deep in thought. Nick just hoped she would tell some of those thoughts to Warrick rather than let another goodbye pass between them.

Sara found getting to sleep that night hard. Part of it was because of the strange room, strange environment, and even stranger sounds coming from the room next door. Most of it was, however, because she couldn't get what Nick had said out of her head. What if Warrick was as scared of starting a conversation as she was? What if he was waiting for her to start, for whatever reason? What if he was waiting for her to say the words because he didn't know how too? 

She knew how hard it was to say what was on your mind without other words coming out instead. She was a master at not saying what she really wanted to say. Look at how she'd said goodbye. It didn't mean anything. That it was easier this way. When really, it had meant everything and it had been a lot harder that way. It was just those words were harder to risk saying, the reaction to them harder to predict. Sara didn't know if she had the strength to risk everything again on the slight chance Warrick didn't think of there relationship as just that one night and that was all. She had carved out a whole new safety net in another state, and she didn't know if she was willing to risk everything once again. Not for him. She wasn't sure that it would be worth it in the end.

What was the worst that could happen? A little voice inside her head asked, sounding a lot like Nick, freakily enough. The worst, she answered herself, the worst would be that she would be left alone. Left alone, and without the hope she had kept alive since that night that it could be more than an exquisite one off. The worst would be that he would laugh at any notion of the two of them being together, that he would taunt her with the fact that he already had someone else, that he had moved on in her absence, that she had left it too late.

The worst would be that she could bare her soul for nothing. Admit her feelings and come away with nothing but the pain she had just spent six months trying to get past.

No, she didn't know if she could go through it. Not just for him. Especially not just for him. She didn't know if she could trust him not to leave at the end of the night without saying goodbye.

The next day, she caught up with a few friends in the city, visited the labs to see Greg and a few other people. Went shopping for clothes as she really hadn't brought enough. It was late afternoon when she dropped in to see Grissom, startling Catherine slightly out of a reverie.

'Hey.' Catherine greeted her, sitting up, looking suspiciously happy.

'What is it?' Sara asked quickly.

'Oh Grissom woke up. Asked if anyone was feeding his spider. If we had managed to catch the perp because he was sure that there would be evidence somewhere in the house.'

'Sounds like Grissom.' Sara said happily, sitting down next to Catherine.

'Yep, it did.' Catherine said, reflecting Sara's happiness. 'It was good to hear him like normal. He even asked if I'd finished all his paperwork yet.'

Sara grinned.

'I meant to tell you, before you left yesterday, you did a good job on the case; no way is that one gonna slip through the net.'

Sara nodded the compliment away. 'Just doing my job.' She said, before she realised what she said. 'I mean, happy to help.' She quickly corrected but the words weren't lost on Catherine.

'You miss it, don't you?' The older CSI asked quietly.

'Sometimes.' At Catherine's look she corrected herself. 'A lot.'

'You can come back, you know. There would always be a job here.'

Sara didn't say anything, the words she had spoken to Nick last night returning, that she couldn't come back just for work.

'Hasn't been the same without you.' Catherine added.

'I don't know if work's enough.' Sara said softly.

Catherine thought about this. 'Well, you know, Grissom's gonna be out for a while. Six weeks if the doctor's get their way. We could do with some cover for that period. You can dip your feet in, as it were. See if you want to come back without the pressure of having to stay.'

'I don't know Cath. I just don't know if I can. I have another job.'

'If it helps, we all get burned out once in a while. But you're too good a CSI to waste it all doing research projects for the bureau. You should be back out in the field, making a difference. Because even when it doesn't feel like it, you do make a difference.'

'Until the next case that gets thrown out because the perp has a better attorney than the state.' Sara said bitterly.

'It doesn't end at one court case. So it gets thrown out- it's not your fault. It just means next time, and there's always another chance to catch the guy, you'll just be ten times more vigilant in putting him away. If you give up, and the guy gets away with it again and again; that's when they win.'

Sara was more than glad that Grissom decided to wake up then, deflecting the conversation away from her. As they left, Catherine added. 'Just give me a ring when you've thought about it. No pressure.' She said, leaving it at that, for which Sara was glad.


	8. won't say goodbye anymore

Won't say goodbye anymore

By Ria

This is the last part of the Goodbye series. Thanks for sticking through all the angst! Oh, there is an epilogue at the end of this too, just to finish it off. It's all archived at my site www.csichaostheory.co.uk if you missed any parts.

They were walking down the corridor, in silence, when the elevator opened at the end of the hall, Nick and Warrick stepping out of the car. Catherine filled in the guys on the good news of Griss's awakening, whilst Sara tried to ask with her eyes if Nick had said anything to Warrick. Unfortunately Nick wasn't psychic, and was too happy to hear about Griss to pay her any heed, and turned from her intent to go on into Grissom's room.

Catherine was doing likewise towards the elevator- she had Lindsey to pick up from school. Seeing as once again she was alone in a corridor with Warrick, Sara bit the bullet. 'Do you wanna get some coffee?'

Warrick looked at her in surprise, as Nick looked back at her from down the hall, also looking surprised, but smiling in encouragement.  Finally Warrick nodded. 'Sure, coffee. Nick- I'll come up later.'

'Sure, take your time- not like Grissom's going anywhere.' He said with an easy grin before disappearing into Grissom's room.

They walked in silence down to the coffee shop in the hospital, but seeing it was full to the point of bursting, Warrick was the one to suggest they walk to a near by coffee shop outside of the hospital. 'It's bound to have better coffee, anyway.' He added, making her smile and nod.

The coffee shop was two blocks away, and they walked in a strange silence. Strange because it didn't feel strained, or uncomfortable. It was as if they both knew they had a lot to say, but that it could wait till they were sitting, with hot mugs of coffee before starting.

Sara didn't know where to start. Starting a conversation by saying "I love you, please drop everything and come back to my hotel room and make hot amazing love with me, because it was only last time we did that that I felt anything other than this pain" seemed a sure fire way of scaring someone straight off with the desperation.

There was always the "so, how's your girlfriend?" question, but somehow, she didn't see that going down any better.

So she found herself watching him instead. He was playing with the stirrer in his mug, making whirlpools in the middle of the liquid before stopping and watching them calm down. She found herself memorising every detail in his face, of the curls in his hair, of the glint of light in his eyes. Just in case. He looked up suddenly, catching her staring, offering her a slight crooked smile.

'I missed you.' She suddenly blurted out, then felt her cheeks blush as he looked startled at how she had started the conversation.

'I mean, I've missed…' She trailed off, deciding to just shut up for a moment. But being here, in his presence was making her nervous and she couldn't seem to think straight, let alone about all that she wanted to say to him.

'I know what you mean.' Warrick said softly. 'I missed you too.' Sara waited for him to add, "for a while, but I got over it", and was surprised when he didn't, before realising that was her pessimistic side talking.

They were sat across from each other, at a high table with stools Sara could only just reach the floor whilst sat on. It was a small table, and she was all the more aware of his presence because of it. Perhaps they should have stayed at the hospital canteen- this kind of intimacy was unnerving her.

'I didn't think you'd be back.' Warrick said quietly. He had gone back to staring at his coffee, but looked up when she didn't answer straight away.

'I…I wasn't going to.' She answered. 'Grissom…' she stopped, knowing that wasn't a good place to start. Even if it was the truth.

'Yeah, Grissom got you to come back.' Warrick said, that same bitter tone she had heard before creeping back in.

'I had to come back.' Sara told him, struggling to find words to explain why, when Greg had phoned, she had dropped everything in an instance.

'Yeah.' The bitterness was grating against her now, and Sara almost wished for the anger instead. 'You'll come back for Grissom, but me…well, what would you come back here for me for?' Well she got her wish. He was growing angry. Again Sara was struck as odd that he was getting angry at her. Hadn't he moved on, got himself someone else?

'I've known Gris since school.' Sara said feeling her own anger rise that he was baiting her like this.

'Yeah, and we had just a night.' He bit back at her.

Something inside Sara suddenly snapped. 'You left, remember?' She snarled at him. 'You were the one that walked out that morning.' She was done with him making it out to be all her fault somehow.

'You just had to go one better and leave the city instead.' Warrick flung back at her, his hurt, his pain on show for the first time although Sara was too angry to see it for what it was.

'That had nothing to do with that night.' Sara told him.

'Oh no, you were already leaving. How could I forget?' He asked, heavy on the sarcasm now.

'Well you didn't exactly give me any reason to stay, did you?'

'And I suppose that night was just a figment of my imagination.'

'Oh, it was real all right. Right up to you walking out without even saying goodbye.' Sara shot back. Their heated voices, although not raised, were getting a few glances from the other patrons. Sara noticed, tried to get some control back. 'You knew I was leaving before that night.' She reminded him.

'What, so I might as well not have bothered? You wouldn't have stayed anyway?'

'It wasn't like that Warrick. What happened between us, it wasn't exactly planned, was it?'

'No, I'm sure you were hoping to be comforted in the arms of another man.' Warrick said sarcastically.

'What?' Sara asked, exasperated at the double meaning she didn't get.

'Oh, I think you know who I mean. Everyone knows you've had a thing for Grissom since before you came here.'

'A thing…what are you talking about? I don't like Grissom in that way. Hell, before I left, we'd barely been speaking anyway.'

'Yeah, you couldn't have him, so anyone else would do. I can bet who was on your mind that night.'

The sound of hand connecting with cheek made everyone in the café look round at them. For a moment, they were both shocked into silence at Sara's action, but Sara quickly got over it. 'How. Dare. You?' She snarled at him, on her feet and glaring down at him before she turned and walked quickly from the café.

Warrick felt the full meaning of what he had just accused Sara of doing fall on him as if in slow motion. He closed his eyes, feeling the stinging in his cheek, wondering what he could have possibly said that was worse than that, more insulting than that. He couldn't let her go now. He might have just ruined everything, but he couldn't leave it at that. If he did, he knew that he would regret it forever. He quickly dropped money on the table to cover for the coffee, running outside and looking around for her.

'Sara!' He yelled, seeing her walking quickly up the block on his left. 'Sara, wait, please. I didn't mean what I said.' He was catching her up, but she wasn't slowing any and he was close to running to get to her. 'Please, Sara, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I don't even think that.' He said, as she finally started slowing down, enough so that he could catch up with her, get in front of her, force her to stop. 

'How dare you imply I slept with you because I wanted someone else.' Sara said, the hurt obvious in her voice now that she wasn't yelling. Warrick tried to interrupt but Sara talked over him. 'I've never slept with someone for any reason other than I had feelings for them. And if that isn't the same for you then I'm sorry but I won't have you destroy my memories of that night even if you obviously just want to forget it.'

'I don't want to forget them.' Warrick said softly.

'Yeah, you've got a funny way of showing it.' Sara countered.

'I didn't mean it Sara.'

'Not that.'

He looked at her confused.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. 'I heard you Warrick. The other day, in the locker room. I came looking for you, but you were talking on your cell. To your girlfriend.'

At his look, she knew she had got it right.

'She's not my girlfriend.' He tried.

Sara shot him a disbelieving look. 

'We've been out a few times, that's all.' He told her.

'It's more than we managed.' Sara pointed out, moving to walk round him.

'Wait, Sara.' Warrick said, catching her arm to stop her. 'She…Cassie doesn't mean anything. It was just a few dinners. Nothing else.'

'I can't do this, Warrick. Every time, we…I guess there was nothing there, because surely it can't be like this if there was.'

'I wanted to call.' Warrick told her, almost in a whisper.

'Yeah, I wanted you to.' Sara said, an odd smile on her face. 'But you didn't.'

'I didn't know what to say.'

'How about goodbye?' Sara asked.

Warrick looked at her in confusion.

'This is it, Warrick, I'm flying out of here tonight. I thought…' She trailed off. 'Well, it doesn't matter what I thought anymore.'

Warrick stood there, helpless, not knowing how to reverse the situation. 'You weren't the only one with feelings that night.' He told her.

She smiled, that odd smile again. 'I never thought I was.'

'Then stay. Talk to me.' He implored her, suddenly more fearful of her leaving her again than he had been of calling her.

'I've been trying. I don't know what else to say.'

'How about just that you won't leave again?'

'If only it were that easy.'

'Make it that easy.'

'It could have been, Warrick. I waited as long as I could, but you never came.'

'But I'm asking you now, don't go.'

'It's too late Warrick. I didn't realise before. But it's too late.'

'I…I…' But she was gone, before he could find any words to make her stay. Walking down the road, away from him, and he felt powerless to stop her.

Sara felt the heat of the tears falling. It was all she seemed to be able to feel. There weren't sobs, or wailing, just the tears falling endlessly, as if trying to bleed off emotion through the tears because there was too much contained for one person.

So that was it then. That was the end. That was the finality she had been after. She had never felt so crushed. So empty. A devoid of nothing but the tears that continued to fall with no reason to stop.

She stumbled to the hotel; she'd already dropped the car off. The badge, the gun. The remnants of her life as a CSI. Although she knew she could get a job near enough anywhere, she didn't think she'd be coming back here anytime soon. However much like home it might feel.

She threw clothes into a bag, checked to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then checked out. At least the tears had stopped flowing now, as she asked the concierge to call her a cab. As she stepped in, instructed the driver, she realised that she was about to leave without saying goodbye to Nick, or to Greg, or anyone else. But she had to go. She'd email them later to explain her hasty departure. She couldn't stay here any longer. She didn't want to torture herself anymore. She had a lot of self- destructive habits, but masochism wasn't among them.

She glanced at her watch, a nervous habit; she had an open return ticket, and would get the first flight back that had a seat free. Still she looked at the time, remembering not long ago fighting time as she was leaving. Seemed it had been the right decision. She had just needed to come back to confirm it.

She sat in the back of the cab, once again watching the lights of Las Vegas being left behind. She didn't look behind her now. Didn't try and postpone in case time would bring him to her door. She had no reason to believe that now. He hadn't come back then, when they had everything to fight for. He was hardly going to come now, when all that was left of that night was a dream fading with time.

No this time, she looked ahead, to the future, determined not to live in the past anymore.

Warrick felt lost, as he traced his steps back to the hospital. He should be going to visit Grissom but he couldn't face him; not after using him as an excuse flung at Sara in the heat of the argument. He knew rationally that Grissom and Sara were friends, at best. That accusing Sara of sleeping with him to get to Grissom was down right mean.

Still, she'd left, what did it matter now. This time there had been no soft words, no "This is for the best, it's easier this way." Nope, apparently, this time it was for good, their relationship really was only meant to be one night.

So why did he feel like this? He wondered as he found his car in the underground car park. Why did it feel like there should be more, that they both had more to say, just didn't feel like the time to say it. Warrick knew, even if Sara had said everything she wanted to say, including goodbye, he still had more. He still had a confession to make about the way he felt that night. About the way he still felt about her. That she had barely left his thoughts in the last six months. That Cassie was just a reminder of what there relationship could have been compared to what it was lacking between him and Cassie. He knew there was a reason he had blown off the last four dinner dates with Cassie. But like any good bloke, he wasn't going to admit it to himself let alone anyone else.

His phone rang, and as if she knew he was thinking about her, Cassie was on the over end of the line. He remembered he was meant to have phoned her this afternoon and had forgotten. Somehow.

He managed hello before he told her, probably out of the blue it seemed to her that he couldn't see her anymore. And that he was sorry, really sorry. That it wasn't her, it was him. And goodbye. Wishing that he hadn't heard that word already today. Goodbye. Wondering how different it would be now if Sara hadn't heard him talking to Cassie earlier.

How messed up could things get? But as he was thinking about that, he thought of one thing he hadn't tried yet. He hadn't asked her not to leave. He hadn't asked her to stay. That had been the start of all this. Why couldn't it be the finish of all this? Maybe if he finally admitted that maybe he loved her then she wouldn't go away again. Although missing out the maybe would be a good start. Because he did love her. If only he'd told her that earlier. If only he'd stayed that night, in the comfort of her arms. Not got scared and walked out. But all the what ifs now wouldn't bring her back. No, this time he had to be the one to start the conversation. And whilst it wasn't particularly original, admitting his feelings would probably be the best place to start. He pointed his car towards the airport, not sure when her flight would be, but knowing that eventually she would have to go through there to get one out of the city she was determined to leave behind.

'I love you.'

Sara's head jerked up, wondering if she had been dreaming. That had sounded like Warrick's voice. She was standing at the security line, waiting to have her bags checked, and her shoes examined before they let her into the departure lounge. There was some problem with the metal detector gate and the line hadn't moved in about five minutes. That was where the dreaming had come into it, anyway. She looked up, and jumped when she saw Warrick in front of her. Her head felt two steps behind as she said 'sorry?'

Warrick breathed deeply, he'd just sprinted from his car into the airport, seen her in the security line about to pass through into departures and ran for her. He was aware of everyone else, bored in the security line, watching them in interest. Perhaps this wasn't the best place, but hey, nothing else had worked.

'I said I love you.'

She blinked. Took a few moments, cocked her head to the side. 'So?' She asked eventually.

He was startled for a moment, but took a moment, composing words. 'So, I love you. And I realise what a jerk I've been to you, but you've got to realise something. I've never said those words to anyone. Ever. And it scares me, and I realise that this isn't the best place for this declaration but I can't let you get on that plane.' He finished, his voice rising in desperation.

Sara looked around, only then seeming to notice the curious looks on them. 'Shit, Warrick, you really know how to mess up my plans.' She told him, although Warrick could see a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

'Can we at least talk?'

In silence, Sara followed him out of the security line. 'My plane leaves in an hour.' She told him.

'There'll be another one.' He told her. 'Besides, you haven't heard what I want to say, yet.'

Sara looked at him, permission to spill everything on his chest, he presumed. He took it as that anyway. 'I can't say goodbye again. I won't. I can't let you leave like this. Because that night was the best night of my life, and I don't want it to be the only one. But I'm scared that if you leave it will be and I'll never meet someone like you.'

She was listening, he could tell that much. Any thoughts she was having were being kept strictly off her face, though. He carried on. A speech he knew off by heart. The speech he had prepared for the last time she had left. Just never got up the nerve to say to her then.

'I wanted to come last time. To your apartment, to the airport. I even dreamed I would catch you just as your plane was leaving. I spent six months wanting to call, but I was scared that even if I said I wanted you to stay you would leave and I would be left with nothing. And I realise that's an excuse, that it doesn't excuse anything I've said to you, or the way I've acted to you, but it's the truth. I left that morning, without saying anything, and that makes me the biggest jerk going, but I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me. I…I didn't think you could feel for me the same as I felt for you. So somehow, I thought it would be easier for you if I left first, before you woke up. And then you told me that you were going anyway, and that seemed to confirm it.'

Sara tried to interrupt, but Warrick, anticipating what she was about to say, carried on talking. 'I know, that I should have tried harder to find a way to ask you to stay. And I know it's taken me six months. But this is it. This is the truth. There was never anything between Cassie and me. Ever. I've been blowing her off even before you came back into town. Nothing feels right without you here. I think we both had things left to say, and that's mine. I love you, and I don't want you to go.' He stopped, took a breath. Feeling better just for telling her even if she hadn't replied yet.

She had been looking at his feet, but now she looked up studied his eyes, laid his soul bare for him it felt. 'You're right, we've both had things to say that we haven't said. I wanted to tell you how much it hurt when you weren't there when I woke up. How long I waited for you to ask me to stay. I told you it was easier if I just left because I thought that was what you wanted to hear. I never told you how much that night meant to me. I waited for you to come and stop me going, but I knew, at the same time, I had given you no reason to ask. And for the record, I think I love you.'

Warrick arched an eyebrow. 'Think you love me?' he asked.

'Well, I'd need a re-run of that night, just to make sure it wasn't a dream, to be sure.'

Warrick smiled in relief at the joke, Sara joining him, and for a moment, they just stood there looking at each other and smiling. 'May I take your bag?' Warrick finally asked.

'Sure, not like it's heavy.' Sara said, but instead of giving him the bag, she dropped it to the floor instead, her now empty hands cupping his jaw, her lips were they'd spent the last six months wishing they could be. The kiss every bit as sweet as she remembered.

All the sweeter because when they broke from it he looked at her, his voice husky. 'We need to go now. I don't think they'd appreciate me stripping you here in the departure lounge.'

Sara had to smile as he led her to his car.

Epilogue

Sara watched him sleeping, thinking idly about the sudden change in plans, but mostly, just marvelling at the sight of Warrick. Turned out that all the thoughts of the last night they had spent together hadn't been exaggerated. And this night had been all the better for the new honesty between them.

He lay resting against her, and she ran her fingers through his hair gently. She remembered thinking a while back, about her one regret of that night, that the one thing she would change about the last time would be not falling asleep. That she should have stayed awake and not let him leave. 

But it isn't the reason for her wakefulness now. She trusts him when he says he loves her. That he never wants to say goodbye to her again. She's just trying to get the last six months into order in her mind. Putting the old ghosts to rest. Really, just revelling in the feel of his skin against hers. Of not having to relive old memories again and again, because she knows that this isn't going to be a one off, this is going to be the forever. And not even that thought is enough to scare her anymore.


End file.
